


Dreams (Like a Heartbeat of Loneliness and Hope)

by Emeli_Thorne



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, F/M, Jax is not a Son, Smut, Tara is still a doctor, Wendy and Juice are Tara's neighbours, mild depression, mystery meeting, no MC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeli_Thorne/pseuds/Emeli_Thorne
Summary: Tara Knowles spends her days saving lives and mourning the ones she loses.When a chance encounter with a stranger leaves her awestruck, she doesn't think all too much of it.Until it happens again. And again.Her own mystery man starts appearing in the moments she needs human contact the most, forcing her to start contemplating about her life and decisions she makes.





	1. A Curious Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> AU where there is no MC and all that drama. Just a girl contemplating her life and a guy willing to show her all the colours of the world. Or something cliche like that :D 
> 
> Also posted on ffnet under the same name

“Tara, you goin’?” a deep male voice asked, and Tara turned around, putting on her jacket.  
  
The changing room was dark save for that one freakish neon that cast a dim light on the lockers. Spencer walked up to his locker and opened it, taking out a small paper bag with his dinner before turning to her again.  
  
“Yeah. Finally. I have no idea how I’m still walking,” she replied wearily, taking her purse and closing her locker. "I’ll call you when I wake up. In a day or two,” she added jokingly, her tired features spreading into a smile that was all to forced.  
  
“Okay, but do that. I get worried when you don’t answer my messages.”

The young man pulled her into a hug and Tara all but melted. Barely containing her emotions, she fought hard just to act composed and not scream out loud from sheer desperation, ache, and disappointment with herself. Somehow, her thoughts were running out on their own accord, obviously choosing to torture her today.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself,” Spencer said pleadingly, sensing what it was that was bothering her. His voice was filled with sadness and concern for her and Tara was really glad she had someone like him in her life.

He was like her little brother and though in most cases she was the one cheering him up whenever he faced hard times, it was good to know he was there for her too when the hardships of her job pressed down on her.  
  
“No, of course. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Kissing his cheek, Tara stepped out of the embrace and went home, clutching her bag furiously as if it were her lifeline. Tears stung her eyes and choked her, the images flashing in her mind making her dizzy.  
  
_Blood, so much blood. Sounds of a failing heartbeat echoing the operation room. And then nothing. Dead silence._  
  
Shaking her head in an attempt to ward off those pervading memories of the events from that day, Tara hurried her pace.

*    *     *    *    *

The night was relatively cold, windy and not at all suitable for walks, a fact Tara realised as she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and snuggled into it. When she got to her apartment building, she noticed that the man who usually slept under their stairs wasn't there. Briefly, Tara wondered where he might be and if he managed to find a warm shelter tonight, before the temperature got even lower.

She greeted her neighbours, Mr. and Mrs.Case-Ortiz, as she stopped to fish out her keys. The blonde smiled warmly and as always inquired about her job and criticised the horrible conditions the medical staff was working under, to what Tara just nodded in agreement and said there wasn't much she could do.

Juan Carlos, the woman's husband who was carrying their two-year-old daughter in his arms, invited Tara to dinner with them which she politely refused, claiming exhaustion.

Wendy looked disappointed, but patted her arm gently and said the invitation was always open, then went inside after her family. The girl’s giggles were heard outside before her mom closed the door and Tara smiled wistfully.

*   *    *    *   *

As Tara walked into her apartment washed in darkness, with only a slight flicker of a streetlamp that cast a gleam over her living room, a sudden feeling of panic rose within her.

She had finished her twelve-hour shift at Trinity General, most of which was a disastrous, looking forward to a nice long shower and to an at least eight-hour-long sleep she hope she would finally manage to get.

But after she had showered, feeling slightly better in comparison to her previous state of mind, the coldness and silence in her apartment were somehow not so appealing to her anymore.

True, she was looking forward to it all day as always, considering she'd been bombarded with incessant noise at the hospital: the beeping of the various medical devices, the screams of pain of patients, the relatives' arguing with doctors and amongst themselves in the waiting rooms, the constant ringing of phones and cell phones, the never-ending chatter at the hospital's cafeteria.

It seemed as if everywhere she went she was accompanied by loud sounds and as much as she used to love that, over years it became borderline unbearable. So no one could blame her for looking forward to the little peace and quiet that awaited her home.

This night however, the silence was unwelcoming. It left her all alone with her thoughts, ones she'd rather push down for as long as she could. Breathing deeply, still wrapped in her fluffy green towel, she made a decision. Turning to her closet, she leafed through the small selection of dresses she owned and, pulling out one of them, she tossed it onto the bed before she unwrapped the towel and let it fall onto the dark wooden floor.

It took her about half an hour to get dressed and apply light makeup, her hair blow-dried, cascading over her shoulders.

*   *    *   *    *    *

The club she went to tonight was in a close distance to her apartment so there was no need to call a cab. Instead, she went on foot and when the bouncer had left her in, Tara was drowned in the loud music playing and people dancing and obviously having fun.

A small smile tugged on her lips as she made her way to the bar. It was unusual for her to see so many carefree people, unburdened by real life and just enjoying themselves. _If she could only make herself join in on the fun..._

Luckily the bar was not all that crowded and she managed to find an empty stool. Shrugging off her coat and ordering a glass of wine, she hopped on the stool and scanned her surroundings. There were mostly young people here, from teenagers to men and women in their thirties, though to Tara's surprise, there were also some even older than fifty.

She was stunned by her feeling of disconnect with the world, like everyone was leading their lives to the fullest except for her, who was feeling drained to her core and so much older than twenty nine.

As the bartender slid her her drink, Tara adjusted on her seat and crossed her legs, feeling overly conscious of herself.

Working twelve and sometimes even more hours, she wasn't used to dresses and certainly not this tight. God only know when she last wore it.

And yet, for some reason she was also glad that for once she wasn't in scrubs and smelling of sweat and antibacterial soap.

As she regarded her hands, for a second she was shocked not to see them in latex gloves, covered in blood. Her head felt so much lighter now that her long dark hair was hanging loose down her back in soft ringlets rather than being pulled up in a ponytail or bun or hidden under surgeon's cap.

Tara loved her job; she loved being able to save some baby's life, but when that didn't happen, the feeling of utter failure and defeat would start eating away at her, she sometimes wished she hadn't chosen this profession.

Seeing life leaving that tiny defenceless body, having to inform the parents that they wouldn't be seeing their baby grow up to be a rebellious teenager, or a football player or a musician, watching horror on their faces before they crumbled down, hearing their sobs and silent words of comfort to each other broke her heart every single time without fail, chipping a small piece of her soul that would never recover.

Even though Tara hoped she would get used that, get used to death and the fact that not all her patients could be saved, she was aghast by her delusion. Some doctors could and Tara thought them robots who only saw patients as numbers and initials rather than human beings.

However, she? She wasn't like that. Every patient, for her, had a name, a face, a story to be told. She would spend hours reading on their patient history, studying religiously their symptoms and test results, any and every information carefully stored in her memory. Then followed hours spent in trans-like state as she researched the internet, medical journals, and books for any kind of method or approach she could use.

It wasn't just a job for her; it was her calling. It gave purpose to her life even though more often than not the consequences took a heavy toll on her.

Tara was taking a sip of her wine before she noticed she'd almost drunk it all in less than five minutes. Had she not felt lighter and more relaxed, she would have felt guilty.

When she raised her head to ask for another one, her eyes locked with a man's sitting across the bar. He regarded her intently with his intense gaze that took her by surprise. She gulped, her heart beating slightly faster but she found herself unable to look away. Call it a cliché if you want, but there was definitely something in looking at another human being, even if it was a stranger, and feeling an instant connection.

He was handsome, his features seemingly stern and rough under the colourful flashing lights of the spotlights. He was nursing what seemed to her like a glass of bourbon and had an air about himself that screamed ‘back off’. His posture was rigid, his sharp jaw twitching as his head tilted to the side as if to assess her better.

Tara couldn’t tell well from where she was sitting, but the mystery man looked to be very elegant and calm in his deportment, almost out of place in that club where everyone or almost every one acted crazy and free.

She observed his fingers, long and gaunt as he brought the glass to his lips. Biting her lip, she oh so wished he would put them on hers. Or any part of her body, she didn’t exactly care.

The abruptness of such thoughts took her completely by surprise.

They were focused on each other now, sipping their drinks but acting like nothing was around them. Somehow Tara managed to tune out the music and the noise, leaving her in complete silence and to the mercy of her sinful thoughts about the stranger.

Fifteen minutes and an intense eye-fucking session and thousands of naughty thoughts later, after finishing her second glass of wine Tara felt the tension harbouring in her shoulders the entire day slowly leave her body, being replaced by something different, deeper.

Although she was tired from all day’s work, she never once broke the eye contact with the Mystery Man, as she called him in her head. The little eye game they were playing in ‘who’s going to look away first’ somehow empowered her and she felt a surge of energy in her veins as something mischievous flashed in his eyes.

Tara understood well what the look meant even though it had been long since that kind of look was aimed in her direction. It made her feel wanted for once and maybe even adventurous in a way that was totally out of her comfort zone. She put on her coat and paid for her drinks then hurried to get outside.

When she got out, the cold air from the outside hit her like a cold shower and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, in spite of her coat, in an attempt to gather some heat. Hearing the door behind her open, Tara turned, coming chest to chest with the stranger.

Well to be accurate, her face met with his chest. His very well-built chest.

She took a few steps back, surprised. He appeared even calmer now that she could have a better look at him, as he put his hands in his coat pockets.

He was tall and lean, his face clean-shaven, his slicked blond hair glowing under the dim street lights. He wore a burgundy shirt neatly tucked into his dress pants that clung to his torso perfectly as far as she could tell. Her gaze lingered for a second longer on the straining buttons of his dress shirt.

Lifting her eyes up then, she saw a ghost of a smile appear on his face before he spoke with a hint of eagerness.

“You wanna get outta here?”

It was a simple invitation, one that hung between them the entire time they were inside, only now it was spoken aloud and he wasn’t just one of the faces inside.

He was there, in flesh and blood, standing in front of her looking like a fucking Calvin Klein model and Tara could just gape at him because, fuck. The man was like walking sex, with his broad shoulders, and those eyes that just a few moments ago had her completely hypnotized even in that semi darkness (not that the lighting was any better in the back alley) and his lips that were so yummy Tara wondered why she hadn't pulled him down and kissed him already.

His smile was bright, though smug with the kind of confidence that often irritated Tara. Apparently that wasn’t the case with him since she found her lips stretching into a grin she fought but failed to hide.

One night stands weren’t her thing. She didn’t judge those who were that type and maybe even she would indulge from time to time had she not been so busy at the hospital.

Long hours and abject exhaustion coupled with her more often than not corpse-like appearance due to lack of sleep certainly didn’t contribute to her getting male attention. At least not outside the hospital and she would never under any circumstances associate herself with any of the men there.

Not because she didn't like any of them because there were certainly some who were good looking and charming enough. Rather, it was the complications that were bound to ensue that had put her off.

The truth was, Tara cared more about her job than creating any temporary or permanent relationship. She didn't have time nor the patience for it.

Now though, she was wide awake with her skin tingling from his proximity, heat spreading through her body, his scent enveloping her and she just itched to touch him, to rip that shirt off him as he fucked her into oblivion. She just wanted to let go, to forget... It was that easy.

Who was she kidding? She didn’t just spend twenty minutes of her night imagining him on top of her, under her, just to say no. Wasn’t she allowed to have some fun at least today of all days? 

And as she contemplated that option, and let's face it, the guy was super hot and Tara would've gladly jumped his bones there and then, she knew she wasn't in the right frame of mind and that she just might regret whatever decision she made mildly intoxicated and psychologically wrecked.

And so, in spite of really _really_ wanting to just let go for once, she shook her head and stepped back, smiling weakly at the stranger. It wouldn’t be right to use him even though she suspected he wouldn’t see it that way.

"Sorry, pretty boy. Not tonight."

The pretty boy in question looked hurt for a second before his features turned coquettish again and a lopsided smile appeared on his face, mixed with confusion.

"Tell me I did not misread the signs, please. 'cause from where I was sitting, I saw it as clear as day you wanted to go to the next level. Am I right?" he tried to sound as if unaffected, but disappointment was visible on his face and in that moment Tara felt bad for leading him on.

Yeah, she wanted to have good time, she wanted some distraction, something that would get her mind of painful images and this dull ache in her heart.

Even still, she knew that whatever she did it would only be a temporary solution and _doin' it_ with a stranger would just make her feel even more miserable and pathetic.

For a brief moment she pictured what it would be like to give into him, forget everything for at least an hour and let his body numb the pain in her but Tara knew it wouldn't be right. The awkwardness would arise, and she wouldn't know what to do or how to behave afterwards.

Feeling like an utter idiot, she apologised,"You're right. Look, I'm sorry. I thought I was... never mind. I'm dead tired and I just want to go home and sleep. I'm sorry for leading you on."

She turned to leave when he spoke and oh boy, did he have a pleasant voice that seemed to caress her (or it might be the alcohol affecting her).

"You just broke my heart, darlin’. I thought we had something special there."

She turned around and they both laughed, Tara shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. There was a freaking hot guy standing in front of her, wanting to be with and she just turned him down, like she had a dozen men like him lined up to be with her.

"Bad line, handsome. I'm sure there are a tonne of women in there just waiting for you to flash that panty-dropping smile of yours. I bet in twenty minutes you won't even remember me."

Tara tried to play it cool but something in his expression awoke the playful side of her. Aware that her words sounded flirtatious, she blushed.

A spark of mischief flashed in his eyes as he approached her slowly, pulling his hands out of the coat’s pockets. Frozen in place, Tara gulped, unable to look anywhere but at him.

_Was she supposed to feel this hot? Hot all over?_

The man had a calculating look in his blues, a hint of what's to come as his tongue darted out to lick his lip.

Unconsciously, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

She should feel threatened, right? 'cause here she was, in semi dark alley with a man she didn't know and with no one else in sight. He could be a killer, or a kidnapper or a lunatic ready to do whatever he wanted and Tara just knew no one would hear her if she happened to scream for help.

So, why wasn't she scared? Instead, she felt more like... turned on? His lips were so inviting and when he smirked she was a goner. Her palms were sweating, heat pooling in her belly, heart hammering in her chest.

_Wasn't she super cold just moments ago?_

Cupping her face in his hands and never taking his eyes from her, he brushed his thumbs gently over her cheekbones.

She knew what he was doing. She knew and if she wanted to stop the inevitable, there was nothing stopping her because the guy had given her enough time to withdraw. Maybe a kiss wouldn't be so bad, right? Just a kiss. Just a little something to get her mind of her work and the shit that was her day and that god awful feeling in her gut that made her feel like utter failure.

Her breathing was already heavy while his was controlled. He was awfully calm as Tara felt her knees grow weak. His palms were rough against the soft skin of her cheeks, and as his thumbs drew circles on them, it was like being hypnotised.

And as this stranger lowered his lips on hers, waking her sense completely, her body awake and painfully aware of his lips on hers, his tongue stroking hers, she surrendered to him. Her hands wrapped around the collar of his coat to pull him closer, changing the angle and deepening the kiss.

And oh, what a kiss it was.

Sloppy? At first, yes, but it changed as they got used to each other.   
  
Rushed? The complete opposite, actually. It was unhurried, tender and sweet. It was completely unexpected judging by her impression of him.

Was it hot? Definitely! And also passionate and caring and absolutely teasing. Not too much, but just enough to make her wonder what it would be like if they were to go beyond mere kissing.

Tara imagined he would be a great lover, gentle and at the same time rough. In for the pleasure and complete surrender.

She inched closer to him, leaving no space between them, heat emanating off him engulfing her. Her fingers curled into his soft hair, her nails grazing his skull, eliciting a grunt from him.

His fingers ran down her cheek, down her jaw to her neck making her shiver and moan into his mouth. He growled, his tongue growing rougher, taking her breath away (literally!).

He then bit her lip, trapping it between his teeth as he dragged his tongue along the soft flesh before he pulled back, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. His breath was hot on her skin as she barely remembered to breathe again, the ghost of his lips present on hers.

When Tara dared to look at him, barely registering the world around, her fingers were still entangled in his hair and she was still pressed against him, her body singing with joy.

"Just a little something to remember me by since you're so keen on leaving," he said teasingly after what felt like hours, brushing his knuckles against her cheekbone before walking back a few steps, eyes flashing to her reddened lips, looking all too content with himself, before turning around and heading back inside, whilst Tara still stood frozen in place, her lips swollen and hands shaking, looking awestruck.

_Get it together_ , she told herself. Wrapping her coat defensively around herself, she hurried to her apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, thoughts starting to creep in.

_I must have imagined it all. Yeah, tooooootally imagined it._

Yet her aching lips, her skin where he touched still burning from the sensation, her breathing still uncontrolled, told a different story.


	2. Running

Days passed and Tara didn't think much of her nightly encounter with the handsome stranger. Though, she probably would have, had she not been busy at the hospital.

They were repainting one of the hospital wings and everything, including patients, had to be relocated to another wing which hadn't been used in ages. Transporting all the equipment and dozens of people hadn't been easy and the final result was a hospital jam where everyone tried to do their best, but often failed since all that conundrum messed with schedules, hospital rooms, and staff divisions.

Coupled with a few days' worth of not sleeping at home but at the hospital simply because it was way more practical than losing time to go home, only to have a two- or three-hour sleep and having to come back again, Tara found herself drained of energy and oh, how she missed her mattress.

Tara hated the makeshift bed in the supply room because it was old (probably as old as she was), uncomfortable to no end, and even though the room was located far from the reception area and waiting rooms, the noise was still present and she had hard time falling asleep because every few minutes the loudspeaker would chime paging a doctor or giving announcements.

Finally, after a hectic week, Tara went home, quickly undressed and, tumbling onto her bed, crawled under the covers resolved to not get up for at least a day. There was no work to go to tomorrow, no big errands to run, nobody in particular to see and honestly, the call of her warm bed and fuzzy blanket was more appealing than the cold outside.

*    *    *    *   *

Two days later, she got up with her energy restored. Taking a long bath, savouring in the scents of her special bath salts she bought god knows when, but never got to use because she much preferred just a quick shower, then dressing warmly, Tara set out making herself breakfast.

After eating junk food and vending machine products for nearly a week, her body craved for something homemade.

Putting on her favourite apron (the one depicting a Santa and his little helpers carrying presents; a gift from her sister), Tara went about the kitchen collecting ingredients and putting them all on the kitchen island, all the while humming some unfamiliar tune. She took out a medium-sized bowl and poured some flour in it then adding a few more ingredients, started to mix them with her hand, and as the ingredients readily combined, Tara started to knead.

Baking always relaxed her, especially when she had a lot on her mind. Tara figured it must have had something to do with her grandma Lois, since she was the one who taught her how to bake when she was still a child, always a patient teacher whose smiled lit up every room she entered.

It was the holiday season, and this time of year was always hard for her ever since she moved to Chicago, leaving her family behind.

The comfort and warmth of her family home was one of many things Tara cherished in her life, especially taking in account the many tragedies she witnessed on her job. As she put the baking tray in the oven, Tara went mentally through her to-do list for the day: finding a dress, going to groceries because she was all out of milk...

*   *   *   *   *

After finishing her breakfast, she decided to go shopping, something she hadn’t done in ages. Putting on her lilac coat, Tara boldly stepped onto the pavement outside her apartment building, the cold immediately hitting her face so she snuggled it into her scarf and hurried downtown.

It was already snowing, the snowflakes covering the Christmas trees that had been put outside the shops and businesses, the traffic jam and angry shouts ruining the holiday spirit as the people rushed to get to work.

After walking past a few windows, Tara finally entered one of the boutiques. She set out to find an evening gown for a charity gala organised by the hospital board she was supposed to attend in a month's time.

She didn’t like attending those events, but since it was for a good cause, Tara figured she could at least show up, have a few glasses, maybe socialise a little. There were a few new residents she had yet to meet, not to mention Spencer would definitely kill her if she refused to come simply because she ‘didn’t feel like it’.

Even though it had been two weeks since the tragic event, some nights Tara still had nightmares.

Becoming a doctor wasn’t hard for her. It was her dream since she was a little girl and with all the support from her family, she made that dream a reality. Only, she wasn’t aware at first that for all the beauty it offered, more often than not it showed its ugly sides, breaking a little bit of her heart each time.

It took her a lot of time to acknowledge the losses; acknowledge, but never get used to them.

When she had chosen a dress, she got to the register and was greeted by a curly-haired girl with a warm smile that immediately lifted Tara’s mood. She was just pulling out her credit card and handing it to the girl when she smelt him.

Yeah, _smelt him_. And before she could even lift her head to make sure she was just imaging things, the person in question spoke, standing at the second register right next to her.

“Would you mind wrapping this for me, please?”

A shiver passed through her body, and swallowing hard, Tara tried to hide her face from the Mystery Man by leaning on the counter at an awkward angle, her eyes as big as saucers.

How was it possible that after all these weeks in which she hadn’t had even the slightest thought of him, suddenly she remembered how he smelt? Or how his lips felt on hers?

His voice was gravely and smooth at the same time, evoking the memories of the night and his sparkling blue eyes that bore into hers. She wasn’t drunk then, but oh how she wished she had been, because then she wouldn’t remember him or anything from that night and she would be free to act like normal people did, like looking the salesclerk in the eye rather than hiding her face in her damn scarf that was so freaking itchy.

Licking her lips involuntarily, Tara choked a gasp in her throat and did her best to focus on her set task: getting the hell out of that store without him seeing her.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

Panic rising in her, she quickly turned away from him again, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of shame. How could she almost sleep with a stranger? What the hell was she thinking then? What if he recognised her too?

She stole a quick glance over her shoulder and yep, he was still there. Only now she realised he was sporting a scruff and looking fucking hot as hell! _Damn it_. Closing her eyes, Tara prayed her salesclerk would just hurry up so she could go and be ashamed as far away from the Mystery Man as possible.

"Here you go, miss. Thank you for your purchase. Happy holidays!"

Tara grabbed her bags, mumbling a reply and hastily ran for the exit, bumping into the Mystery Man. -"Sorry!"- she yelled without turning, her face hidden and her voice muffled by the woolen scarf. She never heard his reply, her solely focus being getting away as soon as possible.

Only when she was a few blocks away did she let herself take a breath and relax. Then she started laughing, unable to contain herself.

She just ran out a store because she was afraid the man would recognise her. How childish was that? He probably didn’t even know what she looked like, seeing how they were both shrouded in semi-darkness when they kissed.

Tracing her lip with her tongue, a sudden warm sensation rose deep within her.

It was a good kiss, damn it. One she should not be thinking about because a) the man was a stranger b) she had other things, more important things to think about c) it meant she needed _to get some_ asap if a single kiss could still create tingles in her nether regions.

Instead of walking, which would have given her plenty of time to dwell on her two encounters with the Mystery Man (she ought to stop calling him that!), Tara took a cab to her next destination.


	3. Do You Feel Like a Young God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad at writing smut so if this seems weird, I'm sorry

Three days. That’s how long it took Tara to pretend the Mystery Man didn’t exist, that she didn’t run into him, that she didn’t try and hide from him. Three days of suppressed sexual desire and dreaming of his muscular torso and those damn lips with a scruff she wished to feel on her other body parts. Three days of affectively avoiding thinking about him, burying herself in her work and paperwork, before she realised she was just fooling herself and that there was no way she could go on like this.

Besides, she was still haunted by the tragic loss of one of her patients not so long ago. This could be her way of unwinding, letting off some steam and not thinking of it for once.  
  
That’s why she was here again; back in that club she met him just a few weeks ago, hoping she would run into him again. Maybe, she thought, if she saw him again she could just jump his bones and get it all out of her system, and it would all be like it had been before him. Definitely.

She wore a simple red dress that reached her mid-thigh. It was, not surprisingly, the shortest dress she owned though not as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. That night she didn’t mind much about her hair or anything else for that matter. She was on a mission and her sole focus was to find that man. As she looked around the club, yet again she took notice of the people that came there; they all looked the same to her.

_What was she doing there? What did she want? Was she that desperate for a quickie that she was willing to offer herself up to a random stranger?_

_But he’s not a stranger_ , a voice in her head whispered.

A small part of her really didn’t see the Mystery Man as a stranger. Maybe it was their staring session or the way he seemed eager to have her that night or maybe it was the kiss he gave her that had her all flustered every time just by thinking about it. There was something in his eyes that night; a recognition of sort, a connection she felt deep in her core that still had her confused, yet one that led her here tonight.

She lacked people in her life these days. She lacked human contact, anything that would make her feel alive and not a machine working twelve-hour shifts and having no social life. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt lonely. She yearned to talk to somebody about something other than test results, CT scans, MRIs, fractures, diseases, and this kind of information that flooded her brain daily, sometimes preventing her from having a decent night of sleep.

She worried about her little patients, about their parents, about everything and anything; she worried about their charts and even slight irregularities bound to appear in some occasions. Her mind worked overtime, all day and all night, exhausting her physically.

And yet, the noise, the worry, the fights she had with her colleagues, the sound of her pager and her cell phone... It drove her crazy and, by some insane paradox, also made her numb to it all.

 _You need this. Just one time and it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay_ , she reassured herself, despite her wobbly legs and whizzing thoughts making her dizzy.

Before she could change her mind, she made her way to the bar, pushing people out of her way, and sat on the same spot she had sat the last time and ordered the same drink. Her hands were trembling with trepidation, her throat dry and her body falling limply into the chair. Her nerves were wrecked, something within her preventing her from relaxing, from clearing her mind of her toxic thoughts and anxiety.

_What if he wasn’t there? What if she just came in vain? What the hell was she thinking?_

Gulping down her drink, she breathed out slowly, willing herself to calm down. The small glass of liquid courage seemed to have reined her in a little, but there was still a sense of... she couldn’t explain it. Her feelings were all jumbled, a headache creeping in little by little as the music got louder and the air sultrier.

She ordered another drink, fighting to ignore the ear-splitting base, people bumping into her, and orders being shouted at the barkeep. Instead, Tara let her gaze wonder about the dancing crowd, hoping to find her Mystery Man and get him out of her system and out of her mind.

A poignant resignation was just settling in her stomach when the skin of her neck prickled and she froze for just a second. Her whole body then shuddered as she hurriedly got up and turned around, her eyes meeting his over the dancefloor.

The man stood leaned against one of the walls, one hand in his dress pants pockets, the other holding his drink. The suit, whose colour was practically indiscernible under iridescent lights of the club, fit him like second skin. The upper button of his shirt was open and Tara took a moment to admire the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he sipped from his glass, his eyes plastered on her. His eyes, even from this distance, held something captivating in them; a want shone through them, making her weak all over again.

Holding onto her chair as fiercely as she could, Tara summoned her wits, her eyes lost _in_ him, _on_ him. As if he had pinned her down with his stare, it was unthinkable for her to move. She couldn’t; she didn’t want to. Her feet were stuck to the ground, her breathing almost nonexistent, her gaze locked on him.

For a few moments, the voices inside her mind and the music of the club died down, leaving her in complete silence, liberated of the her inner, everyday turmoil.

What was it with him that practically wiped her mind completely, rendering her speechless, motionless? He never took his eyes off her, taking her back to that night weeks ago when all her thoughts were of losing herself to him, even for a few minutes. Until she sobered up and backed down, albeit regrettingly.

Regarding her with great care and concentration, his eyes roamed up and down her body, and when his gaze finally met hers again, his pupils were well blown to the point she only saw black. As he strode towards her in a manner most peculiar, Tara noted the aura that clung onto him present again, making him blend into the crowd seamlessly and stand out like a sore thumb at the same time.

He tilted his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face as he disposed of his glass on the bar. His eyes trained on her, he spoke at once in a raspy voice, making her insides ignite.

“Don’t mind me saying, but I never thought I’d see you here again.”

And there it was: the same smile he left her with the last time she saw him - cocky, mischievous, with a hint of audacity that somehow suited him just right. It was one of the reasons she was back here. His eyes seemed to search her face for an answer, but Tara was too lost in her own head and her bewilderment with him to utter a word.

It was only when he gently touched her fingers clutching the chair that she broke from her trance.

“I thought so too. I guess we were both wrong,”she answered in a gasp.

It was all she said as she couldn’t say anything else. That voice in her head, the one against all of this, was screaming at her, throwing threats and accusations at her, waking her sense of insecurity again, choking her with its words and stabbing her wounded heart with each insult.

Pushing it down, Tara gripped the chair tighter, all the while looking at him. She could do this. Why couldn’t she? She desperately wanted, needed someone to give her just a moment of utter content; someone to shush the voices in her head, stomp that guilt, sorrow, the burden she was carrying with her for so long.

Just one peaceful moment of ... _connection_.

A flash of unrecognizable feeling appeared in his eyes for a second and just as fast disappeared. It was replaced by, as Tara discerned, something she felt that night weeks ago.

Understanding.

He saw it in her eyes just as she saw it in his. There was no pity or contempt, only deep understanding of the chaos vibrating off her body, mirroring the one thundering round her mind.

With a gentle smile, he took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing manner. Everything in Tara lit up, her own hand gripping his with such a force she thought show would break it. _She was just holding onto him..._

The man pulled her flash against him as he manoeuvred them through the inebriated crowd, leading them to...

Tara had no idea where.

Frankly, she didn’t care. In that moment, it didn’t matter as long as he would let her use him, and by the look in his eyes from moments ago, he was definitely in for it.

To hinder her accusatory thoughts, Tara buried her face in his chest, seeking something, anything to concentrate on.

 _His_ scent (woodsy with a hint of alcohol he was drinking).

 _His_ arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder.

The silk of _his_ jacket that grazed her bare skin intermittently drawing soft moans out of her.

The steady beating of his heart mixed with music around them, offering her an odd kind of comfort, so much so she fought the need to close her eyes and nuzzle his chest just to feel him even closer.

Their walk wasn’t anywhere far; the Mystery Man led them behind one of the panels that created a makeshift barrier between the crazed mass and the quieter part of the club. There was nothing decorative there, as though all the money invested went to embellishing the main areas, leaving this little corner bare of any colour.

But, the flashing lights illuminated this small place too, casting sporadic bursts of colour on the walls that let the fleeing party looking for a quickie know they were still part of the mass outside, though they were alone.

He pushed her against the panel, lifting her legs up and she wrapped them around him immediately, her panties already soaked. Her breath was ragged, eyes locked with his as his hands started roaming up her body, hitching her dress higher and higher, leaving a trail of goosbumps behind them.

Since the first time she saw him that night, he emitted confidence, but now, as she took a few moments to looked at him up close... His eyes reflected the kind of hurt she was well acquainted herself. _So, he too wanted to drown his feelings and forget something..._

Folding her arms around his neck, Tara pulled him by his hair, smacking their lips in an urgent kiss. She felt his scruff rubbing against her face, his calloused hands massaging her thighs, searching for their target.

His hot breath was on her neck, his lips nibbling and biting when his fingers hooked under her panties, dragging them halfway down in one swift motion. Gasping as the cold air hit her naked sex, she squeeze her eyes shut, craning her neck to give his violent mouth a better access as his tongue licked her sweaty, heated skin. He cupped her sex, his lips pressed to her ear, inhaling her scent.

“What’s your name?”

The sound of his voice, broken, puffed, sent another shiver through her body, another wave of excitement washing over her. Her heart was already beating fast against her chest, almost in accord with the beat coming from the speakers.

 _This is a one-time thing_ , Tara reminded herself. _No strings attached. He won’t even remember you after this. You won’t remember him._

“T- Tara,” she muttered, her mind going blank already as he drew his finger up and down her slit, spreading her wetness all over. His long fingers caressed her sensitive flesh, brushing her clit just slightly, but it was enough for her to arch her back, whining and begging for more contact.

She felt him smile against her cheek, kissing her softly, for a moment breaking the harshness with which they started all this. A fire ball grew in her stomach, spreading the heat throughout her body, growing hotter by the second as she pulled him closer, the buttons on his chest scraping against her breast as he moved, her nipples hardening.

“I’m Jax.” It was barely audible. “You know, I’ve been thinkin' 'bout you a lot these past few weeks, _Tara_ ,” he whispered, his voice deep with lust, sending a shiver straight to her core.

A loud whine left her lips when he inserted his finger and her walls clenched around it immediately. He started pumping, brushing over her clit, once, twice, before she was moaning in his ear, her fists gripping his shoulders so tight her knuckles had gone white. He just continued; his finger steadily pumping in and out of her, his scruff rubbing against her lips as he kissed her wildly, his other hand on her waist holding her tightly.

Then came the second and the third finger and Tara was a goner, screaming out, losing herself to him, to music around them, to the flashing lights of the club... Her chest was so tight she thought she was going to suffocate as she was coming down from her high.

Through her haze, she heard his soft chuckle, then the familiar sounds of a zipper and foil.

As she opened her eyes, still panting, Jax’s eyes flashed with mischief and she realised it was the first time they really looked at each other since he approached her. Daring to sneak a peek down, she gulped watching him roll on a condom.

Her eyes flew to his again as a smirk spread on his face. Biting her lip, she tried to focus, to chase away the fog in her mind.

Jax positioned himself against her entrance, grinning when she whimpered at the contact with his hardness. Tara wound her arms around his shoulders, her nails raking his scalp making him hiss.

“Tara.”

They way he said her name... _No! Don’t think, Tara, don’t think!_

He gripped her hips and thrust into her at once, burying himself to the hilt. His name flew off her lips in a loud moan, a torrent running through her, her toes curling. Jax pulled back then thrust again, eliciting another moan from her.

Their eyes were on each other, looking, searching for something, their bodies chasing inevitable orgasms.

Jax would thrust and Tara would push her hips, welcoming him each time; her walls clenched around him drawing him deeper, deeper... They did this dance until the only sound either of them heard was the sound of their skin slapping against each other, their breaths quickening, eyes on each other still, as if assessing who would last longer.

Tara savoured this moment; him inside her, throbbing, his hands clutching her hips, probably leaving some bruises though at the moment she couldn’t care less; sweat glistened on his brow and without a second thought, her fingers wiped it off, stopping on his cheek, cupping it lightly.

The surprise in his eyes was more than evident; he stuttered a bit in his movements before he recollected, this time thrusting harder, faster, making her yelp in surprise.

The thrill of being there, with him, amongst all those people and the possibility of being seen, of being caught, set her on fire and she rushed to match her movements to his, panting uncontrollably, chasing her release.

Then Jax pressed his thumb against her clit and she was undone.

When her orgasm came, the ferocity of it washed over her in violent waves and spasms. She cried out his name not caring if anyone could hear her, closing her eyes, mumbling incoherently till she felt him still inside her, pulsating, then making a final thrust.

Jax growled her name in her neck, spilling himself inside her.

They were just standing there in each other’s embrace for what felt like hours, heartbeats matching, their breathing finally in control. Jax was drawing small circles on her back, lulling her into relaxation; her arms were still wrapped around him, her cheek pressed against his, eyes closed, lashes fluttering.

Slowly, Tara started coming off her high when her senses were assaulted by the scene.

His woodsy scent was now mixed with hers, the smell of sex clinging onto them. Their skin was glistening, bodies still joined, although he was getting softer, and as Jax turned his face to her, his lips brushed against hers.

Panic instantly struck her, her heart beating like crazy and her body shaking. She felt her throat constricting, making it hard to breathe.

_It was too real. Too real. She had to get out of there. Now._

Shoving him off her, Tara unhooked her legs around him and pulled up her panties. For a second it seemed like Jax wanted to say something but she couldn’t stay and listen to him.

_She had to get out._

And so, before he could utter a word, Tara pushed past him and rushed through the club, shoving people out of her way.

 _Out._  
_Out_  
_Out._


	4. After That Night

The morning after her encounter with the Myst- _Jax_ , she recalls, his name was _Jax_ \- Tara feels like utter shit. She can barely open her eyes let alone get out the bed, bad as she needs to use the bathroom. Her body is sore, her head pounding, her face and neck tingling for some weird reason... until she remembers his fervent kisses and the way his scruff chafed along her jaw and down, way down. Yawning, she presses on her temples with her fingers, feeling like her head is going to explode.

She didn’t get drunk last night, that much she knows for sure. A drink, maybe two and that’s it. The rest of the night though... It’s wrapped up in a neat blurry blanket of her mind she can’t quite unwrap. Not yet at least.

So, pushing her feet inside her plushie slippers, Tara grudgingly steps out of the comfort of her warm bed and heads to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The chill of her apartment sends goosebumps along her skin, reminding her she should really call the super again and finally make him fix the damn heater.

Once in the bathroom, she realises she didn’t even change into her pyjamas last night, having only stripped out of her dress, sleeping in her underwear. She shrugs, giving her head a shake. As she starts taking of what little she has on, she pauses as she catches herself in the mirror.

There are _hickeys_ , purplish fucking hickeys on her shoulders, along her clavicle, the side of her neck. The skin of her face and neck is red and sensitive from, no doubt, his scruff. The feeling of it the second she woke up was one thing. Seeing it now, like this, spread along her skin... It disturbs her.

Not necessarily in a bad way. It’s just...

She’s not used to hooking up. Not at all. And yet she did hook up with a guy last night, one that blew her mind and at least for a little way chased her demons away. As she leans on the sink, she regards her face, wanting, _needing_ to see if that made any difference. If she can see any changes on herself. Tara almost prays that she can because aside from physical remnants of their encounter, she can’t quite recollect how it all went. Her thoughts are in complete disarray, she has to force herself to concentrate.

Closing her eyes, she stills for a moment, focuses on the one thread of it all still clinging to the stupor.

The warmth of his body against hers amidst all the noise and heat of the club. The rest of flashes come in succession and her knees buckle that Tara has to grip the sink just to prevent herself from falling flat on her ass.

_His fingers kneading her flesh._

_Her fingers tangled in his soft blond hair._

_His tongue licking its way down her jawline._

_Hot. Sweaty. Feral._

_The words he whispered in her ear as he thrust into her._

_His lips, mere inches away from her and the tangling of their ragged breaths._

_The fast beating of his heart under her palm._

_That look in his eyes she became all too acquainted with in the short time they spent together._

The onslaught of memories is almost too much for her that she has to shake her head again to return to reality. Her bathroom, and not that nightclub, not that little corner where they shared whatever that was between them.

 _Get a grip_ , Tara tells herself, _get a grip._

Continuing what she had began earlier, she takes off her panties and steps into the shower, letting the tepid water wash away all the reminders of last night – she scrubs ferociously at her thighs and between them, her face, anywhere and everywhere he touched her. There can’t be anything left of him on her. She works methodically, keeping her thoughts at bay. The water is almost freezing cold by the time she’s finished, feeling exhausted.

It might be her guilt or shame working its way through her, the thrill of her first sexcapade slowly draining form her body.

She wraps herself in her fluffy navy blue bathrobe and when she goes back to her room, Tara makes a quick way around it, gathering up clothes from the drawers and dressing, then trying to figure out a plan for the day.

She’s due to work later in the evening, so there’s nothing pressing she needs to do right now. There’s nobody needing her for that matter. And suddenly, a sense of emptiness joins all other emotions that’d been assaulting her recently.

At least at work, her mind would be occupied with something else, she would have something to do. Sitting around, lounging all day is not an option, she decides. Not with the image of Jax’s face pressed up against her, his fingers inside her, those eyes that told her plenty even if he himself spoke nothing.

She decides to go for a walk to clear her head. Tara’s just locking up her apartment when Wendy shows up, climbing up the stairs, holding Lizzy by the hand as the child lifts her feet carefully onto each stair. Wendy casts her a wide smile when she notices her and Lizzy lets out a loud shrill as she struggles to let go of her mother’s grasp and attempts to run towards Tara.

“Tawa, Tawa” Lizzy yells and Tara turns around, crouching to catch her in her arms. Lizzy giggles into her neck and Tara chuckles, hugging her tightly.

“Hey sweetheart. Long time no see. What have you been up to, ha?”

“Momma, my doll!” the girl stretches her arms towards Wendy to give her her new doll, wanting to show it to her friend.

“Hey, Tara,” Wendy huffs once she reaches them, handing Lizzy her doll and placing her shopping bags next to her apartment door. “No offence, but you look like shit. What’s up with you, girl?”

Tara gulps, the little smile she sported for Lizzy disappearing, obviously caught off guard.

Usually she’s really good at avoiding her neighbours, especially the Case family. Not because she doesn’t like them but because Wendy is always so perceptive and Juan Carlos is so friendly, willing to help around her apartment whenever she needs it (since their super is a piece of shit who never bothers to show up when called) that Tara finds it hard to act around them the same way she acts around other people – closed off, cold, guarded. There’s lightness in the couple, in the way they love and support each other, the way they managed to wiggle their way into her empty and boring life with this little princess she’s holding in her arms, the way they...

In the way they care and worry about her, more than anyone before ever did, she feels. It’s the reason she assiduously tries to hide all this negativity from them, this burden she carries around with her that suffocates her daily.

“Nothing. I just had a bad night out. Think I drank too much,” she say eventually. Partial truth is better than a full-blown lie, right?

“Oh sweetie, thank god you got out of that apartment. I was really starting to get worried about you. Did you at least have a good time?”

Tara can feel blush creeping up her cheeks and or a moment she feels embarrassed. It’s not like Wendy guessed what  exactly happened, but something in the way she asked makes Tara think Wendy was indeed hinting at possible sexual encounters, and that only her daughter’s presence kept her from asking it explicitly.

Tara tells her the truth this time, actual truth she wasn’t able to admit herself this morning, “Yep. A really good time.”

Wendy’s grin is so damn wide and there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes, “I wanna hear all about it tonight!”

“I can’t. I’m working the night shift,” is Tara’s lame attempt at extracting herself from Wendy’s undoubtedly through interrogation. However, the woman is relentless, god bless her, so she manages to goad Tara into having a girls’ night as soon as Tara gets a few sys off..

“I want details, girl and I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m bringing wine, you can get us some snacks.”

Shaking her head, attempting to hide a smile, Tara agrees before saying goodbye to the mother and daughter and heading outside.

*    *    *    *    *

What happened between Jax and her haunts Tara well into the next week so much so that her colleagues start noticing her absentminded expression and behaviour. Spencer, of course, is the first one to actually address this.

They are sitting in the cafeteria, taking advantage of the meagre half hour they have to eat some haphazardly assembled sandwich that’s more bread than anything else. The cafeteria is relatively empty and it occurs to her how utterly bleak it looks devoid of people and the usual chatter, ringing, and clatter of dishes.

 Tara feels Spencer’s eyes on her as she focuses on crumbs falling off her sandwich, pointedly ignoring him.

“So-” he starts, clearing his throat, “you  finally gonna tell me what’s been going on with you lately?”

Shrugging, Tara continues munching, without any indication she will answer his question. Spencer sighs, resting his elbows on the table. She can imagine the look on his face – pure exasperation. She can’t blame him; they’ve been friends for years and yet, Tara’s never been the sharing type, much to Spencer’s dismay. She wants to let him in, she really does. It’s hard, though, trusting people that much to let them in on her life, her emotions.

“I should just stop asking you anything altogether,” he says, irritated, and starts gathering up his things.

“I had a one night stand with a guy,” she blurts out, covering her face with her hands to hide it.

Spencer is quiet for a few moments, doesn’t say anything and Tara thinks he must think she’s crazy, making such a big fuss about such a stupid thing.

“That’s it? There’s nothing else?”

“Yeah, that’s that.”

He rolls his eyes as he sits again and sighs heavily before he starts yelling “God, Tara! I thought you were dying or something. What the fuck?”

Now she feels guilty for acting the way she did, for unnecessarily scaring him when it’s not even that big of a deal. She reaches out to seize his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, biting her lip.

“Sorry, Spence. I just... I’m having a hard time dealing with this,” and it’s the fucking understatement of the year. She debates whether she should tell him just how many times she got sick thinking about it and spent more than half an hour sitting on cold tiles of her bathroom, crying.

“Why?” he asks, and for a second she thinks he’s asking her why she cried before she realises she didn’t actually utter those thoughts. He was referring to not dealing well with it. Spencer continues, “It’s not like you did something wrong. Was it consensual?

 Tara nods, clearing her throat, “Yeah. Actually I sought him out. It’s kind of weird and messy. I just...”

She can’t articulate the thoughts that have been plaguing her all this time. Everything is jumbled, her emotions included.

“I’ve seen you wallowing over this thing for a week now,” Spencer says, arching his brow at her. “Come, on spill it out. What’s the problem?”

 _What is the problem?_ The problem is there is no problem. She fucked with some guy, had a good time then ran away from him like her ass was on fire.

She settles for “I’ve never done something like this before,” her voice almost a whisper, like she is ashamed.

“You didn’t like it?” Spencer inquires after he unpacks the rest of his sandwich and resumes eating it.

“No, I did, I really did. He was... it was great. But I feel... guilty.”

_There, she said it, finally._

“Why? You have to know why you feel that way.”

 _Damn you, Spencer,_ she thinks, _and your perpetual need to get to the bottom of things._

Taking a few minutes to collect her thoughts and feelings, since they’re really discussing this seriously, she answers “I keep thinking about it. I think it’s mostly because it was a stranger, you know? Someone I have never met before. It was... bizarre, a bit dangerous. And so thrilling, to be honest.” And mind-blowingly amazing, but she won’t tell him that.

Spencer smiles, motioning with his hands, “Ok. Good. What else’s bothering you?”

Tara fidgets in her seat, plays with a strand of her hair, taps with her finger against the table before she eventually confesses, “I’m just so tired, Spence,” and with that, she’s finally acknowledging her struggle. “This job... it’s taking so much from me. Sometimes honestly I think I’m losing my mind.”

Spencer gets up from his chair and instead sits in the one next to her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders pulling her closer, their heads leaned against each other.

“I get that, Tara. We’ve all been through this phase. Hell, we are all going through it all the time. It’s never easy to lose a patient, to constantly question if you could have done something differently to save them. The only thing you can do is go forward, learn from any mistakes you might have made and do better the next time. And for god’s sake, don’t shut people out.”

“Thanks,” she replies sniffing, and hugs Spencer. Sometimes it is so easy to forget there is someone caring for you even when all you do is alienate them, she realises.

Spencer bumps her shoulder with his, deciding to continue his questioning, “So, this guy, that night... was it to blow off steam or?”

Tara nods, “Yeah, basically. But it felt more than just sex. I can’t really explain it.”

“Maybe cause you haven’t been getting any lately,” Spencer jokes and they both laugh. It’s a short, welcoming distraction from the gravity of their conversation.

“Shush, you idiot. I’m being serious. I think that scared me.”

Spencer frowns, “He scared you or?”

“No, not him exactly,” she replies, thinking a little about what to say next. She continues by saying, “more like, the situation, that moment was what scared me. Like it was sex, but not _just_ sex. Amidst all of that, there was something else.”

“Have you seen this guy after that night?”

Tara shrugs, averting his gaze, “No, I’ve been kind of avoiding going out, like completely. I became paranoid I’ll bump into him on the street.”

She still remembers vividly when she almost bumped into him in that store, how she freaked out.

“Would that be bad? From what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t seem like some creep.”

“Well, I did kind of run away from him after we did it,” she says, sounding apologetic as she pulls away from him slightly, preparing for his reaction.

And Spencer delivers it, crying bloody murder, “Excuse me? You did what?”

Tara exhales loudly before answering, “After we did the deed, I panicked and basically run away. I just up and left.”

Eyes wide, mouth agape, Spencer is rendered speechless “Wow.”

Tara nods in further confirmation, “Yeah. So you can imagine why I’ve been anxious.”

“Not cool, Tara. Not cool at all. Especially if you think there was a connection between you guys.”

“I know. What do you think I should do?” she sounds defeated.

“Ugh, I don’t know. Do you want to see him again?” Spencer asks her and she’s frozen for a moment.

Things seemed so complicated to her before this conversation, which is why she acted like a damn fool. Now though...Certain things became clearer, including any possible future encounter with Jax, which is why she answers as truthfully as she can.

“Maybe. He seemed like a decent guy. But I’ve been out of touch with myself and people in general lately, I have no idea how to approach him without making an ass of myself.”

Spencer quirks his eyebrows, chewing on a fry, “You did solicit him.”

“Shut up!” Tara shoves him playfully, “That was the brave Tara. I had to psych myself to go to that club that night.”

“So? Do the same again. You can’t shut yourself up in that apartment of yours forever. It’ll do you good to be around people. Go to that club. Even if he’s not there, try and enjoy yourself. Relax. Have a few drinks. Your job can’t be everything you have.”

The way Spencer tells it, everything seems so easy. Except, it isn’t. Not for her. When she thinks about it though, really thinks about it, maybe going out of her comfort zone would do her good; it is challenging, but Tara Knowles was never a coward.

“You’re right. You’re so right.”

“I know. Spencer the wise.”

Tara hugs him tightly, “You really are, Spence.”

“And don’t scare me like that ever again,” Spencer admonishes.

“Promise.”


End file.
